


Albric: Endings

by CloakedStoryteller



Series: B^2: The Times Between [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death In Dream, Dream Sequence, F/M, Gen, Had a hard time writing his part because I got too upset, Thanks for everyone's patience on this one, This got kinda fucked up not gonna lie, This is absolutely not canon, Warning for Waldrun-induced tears, this is just me playing around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29936916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloakedStoryteller/pseuds/CloakedStoryteller
Summary: B^2 is focused on winning against the Khulic Empire, but what happens when the war is over? How does the campaign affect what happens fifty years later? And what happens if our heroes fail?
Relationships: Olympia Matekin/Jessamine Matekin
Series: B^2: The Times Between [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133465





	Albric: Endings

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, this was mostly written before Waldrun died, Elena left, and Gustavo joined. B^2 circa February 2021. I worked with what I know of everyone's characters, and if you have an issue with a portrayal just talk to me about it, I can edit it. Special thanks to Wilson, whose playlists let me power through this, Kady for beta reading, and Caine for letting me write from Albric's POV.

Sneaking into the necromancy cult’s lair, Albric walked between Elena ahead of him and Cedar behind him. They had stayed together, fifty years after their victory over the Khulic Empire, because they were the most long-lived of the party members. The others had drifted away after a few years, finding their own ways in life, but Albric only looked to be middle-aged and Elena could still be mistaken for a thirty year old human. Cedar looked nearly untouched by time, perhaps wiser, and scarred from their battle with Wendonai’s puppet half a century ago, but she was still young and strong with elven grace. 

As Albric made his way into the cave system, he wished for Dakota so he could know he was going in the right direction, but she had died peacefully, in old age, thirty years ago. Unfortunately, even blink dogs could not touch the lifespan granted by elven blood. Albric hadn’t had the heart to get another dog after his faithful hound had passed away.

Albric, Elena, and Cedar had been asked to destroy the necromancy cult located just over the border in The Forgotten North by the Khulic Republic, which had replaced the Khulic Empire. They were happy to, of course, but Albric couldn’t help but wish they had a life cleric and a necromancer on their side when fighting the undead. 

Nevertheless, the last members of B^2 had no issues sneaking into the underground cave system that housed the cult, finding it simple to slip past the shambling, unaware undead. As they traveled deeper into the caves, they began to see living humans, necromancers they presumed. 

There was little resistance, knocking out a person here, a person there, but no real problems. As they approached the hub of the cave systems, there was an energy lying quietly in the air. A foreboding, but not altogether malicious feeling, whispering of secrets better left unsaid and unwelcome revelations. 

Eventually, the team of adventurers came across the source of the murky feeling in the air. As they approached the door to another side cave, they could feel the atmosphere thicken, a warning against those who approached. Something deep inside Albric scratched at him, warning him away. It had to be the leader waiting behind that door. Cut off the head of the snake, and the rest would easily fall.

Elena slid her lockpicks in and out of the keyhole with practiced silence, and swung open the door quietly. The room was smaller than Albric had expected, not a massive workshop or a throne room a cult leader would usually grandstand in, but a small sanctuary with a bed shoved in the corner and magic books littering every available surface. The room looked disordered, like the books had been haphazardly thrown on the nearest table when they outlived their usefulness or the owner got frustrated. 

The necromancer himself was cloaked in a tattered black hood, not much of him able to be seen while he was facing away from them. Albric heeded Elena’s signal, one that he had seen many times over the years they had fought together. She motioned them back as she crept closer to the muttering necromancer. In one swift motion she grabbed the man’s cloak in one fist and used it to spin him around, clocking him in the face as he came around. 

The necromancer wheeled backwards, knocking into a workbench covered in books and skulls. A familiar voice flatly exclaimed, “ow!” and the necromancer’s hand went to his nose. Albric had already paused in drawing his bow, but he fully froze and his mouth dropped open as Cedar exclaimed, “Zosyn?!”

And it was Zosyn- in a sense. It wasn’t the pale, skinny man Albric was used to seeing skulking around their camps, it was a frail, old man with a white beard and piercing dark eyes. But he had the feeling that permeated the cave system wrapped around him like a cloak. A hint of death hung around him, one that Albric had felt occasionally around Zosyn. 

It clicked together for Albric at the same time it did for Elena. Though fifty years older, ninety years old, Albric realized with a shock, this old man was still Zosyn to his core. “Zosyn?”

“Hello Albric, Elena, and Cedar,” Zosyn hissed, “it’s nice to see you after all these years, I suppose.”

“Zosyn?” Elena repeated.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” Zosyn said, clearly unamused by the fact his old teammates had snuck into his fortress and punched him in the nose. 

“You’re the one running the necromancer cult?” As Albric said it, he came to the realization that his old friend was the one they had come to kill. 

“What the hell, Zosyn?!” Elena exclaimed. “Why would you start a cult?”

Zosyn stiffened. “Please, Elena. Why would I start a cult? You should already know the answer to that.”

“It’s a death cult, Zosyn! What reason could you possibly have?” Albric cut in.

Something angry glinted in Zosyn’s eyes. “How could you stand there, nearly two hundred years old, and able to fight like we did fifty years ago, and ask me why I would start this cult?”

“What does a death cult have to do with that?”

“It’s not a death cult!” Zosyn visibly closed his eyes, calming himself. When he opened his eyes, something in his face was excited. “It’s an immortality cult. With the necromancers I’ve trained, I’ve found a way to live as long as even Cedar will.” 

When no one said anything, he continued. “I’ve found a way to make myself into a lich. I’ll be strong again, I’ll be free of this old body.”

Unfortunately, Zosyn’s proclamation that he was turning himself undead wasn’t met with excitement. Cedar looked vaguely horrified, while Elena wore a more neutral, but worried expression. Albric himself felt a deep dread. Was this what Zosyn had been doing all this time? Was this their fault?

Taking in his old teammates’ reactions, Zosyn’s face hardened. “You can’t stop me. I’ve been working on this for years, and I won’t have you ruining it.”

Albric felt the determination to stop Zosyn from going further down this dark path spark within himself. “We’ll see about that.”

000000000

Unfortunately, Zosyn was right. After he called his forces, it was only a matter of time before the undying skeletons overpowered the three adventurers and escorted them out into the snow. They then locked and magicked the door shut, and no amount of Elena’s lockpicking was able to get them in.

Giving up, they left. If this was anyone else, they would never have left a necromancer to turn themselves into a lich, but in this case their hands were tied. Zosyn was stubborn, and if they pushed, Cedar pointed out, he would just shut them out more. They decided to deal with the pirate problem the Holdian king had asked them to deal with, then return to try to convince Zosyn to change his mind. Hopefully a few months would soften him.

000000000

They made their way back across the sea, reminded of a young Voyage perched on the rail and enjoying the sea spray decades ago. The nostalgia bolstered Elena, Albric, and Cedar’s spirits, and they decided to visit Olympia in Britia on the way to the Holdian coast. 

The familiar large, beautiful trees of the Matekin estate brought a smile to everyone’s faces, anticipating seeing Olympia for the first time in a few months. Cedar even stood up in her stirrups and plucked a lovely pink flower off an overhanging tree branch, lacing it in her hair.

The sweet smell of the orchard was in the air, and with the spring breeze playing over the adventurer’s elven ears, they didn’t anticipate the somber mood when they arrived at the manor. 

They were greeted outside the house by a servant who offered them a grim smile. He refused to answer their questions, only directed a stableboy to take their horses and lead them into the parlor to meet with the lady of the house.

They were greeted by Lady Jessamine Matekin. She could usually be found outside, shepherding her husband and children with an air of kind capability that had quickly endeared her to B^2. In her youth she was a willowy noblewoman with long blonde hair and eyes that sparkled at Olympia’s well-meaning blunders. Fifty years later, Jessamine had gained an air of calming maternity, with greying hair swept neatly up into a bun and a light blue dress that matched her eyes, fitting of a noble lady.

There was something heavy weighing on her, but she ushered Cedar, Elena, and Albric to sit down and served them tea. Off to the side, Olympia’s eldest son was strumming his lute in a mournful tune, his usual bubbly personality dampened by something weighing on him. 

Albric took a moment to look closer at Olympia’s son, his godson, Skylar. He had grown into a fine young man, the spitting image of Olympia with his mother’s eyes. He had just gotten back from bard college, having acquired a love of music from listening to his father joyfully play the viola even into his sixties. 

Skylar was the one of Olympia’s children that Albric knew best, being his godfather and having taught the boy the basics of how to fight when he was younger. A lover rather than a fighter, Albric was proud to see how much the boy had matured since he had last seen him.

Lady Matekin drew their attention back by sighing quietly.

“Where’s Olympia?” asked Cedar softly.

Jessamine smiled tiredly. “A couple weeks ago, a group of bandits attacked. They were well prepared, and a few were magic users, but we fended them off well enough. But… Olympia insisted on going to fight, and a man of seventy… he’s not the warrior he was fifty years ago. He was caught on the side by a poisoned dagger. We got him to a healer quickly, but the poison has set in and with all of his old wounds, the old whippings… it’s too much for his body. Olympia doesn’t have much time left.”

A sour note came from Skylar’s lute. He cursed bitterly, one of the most offensive things Albric had ever heard him say. The boy stormed out as his mother looked after him worriedly.

At Albric’s questioning look, Jessamine explained. “Everyone is taking this hard, but Skylar most of all. You know how he loves his father, and he was next to him when he was stabbed. Skylar blames himself.”

“He couldn’t have done anything.” Elena said, with the well-worn certainty of one who has had others die on her watch.

Jessamine smiled sadly. “Everyone knows but him. And he refuses to listen to us.” Rising, Jessamine waved them towards the door. “Come, Olympia will be happy to see you.”

Despite the circumstances, as they filed into Olympia’s room Albric’s heart lifted. Annette, Arabella, and Addison, Olympia’s triplet daughters were all quietly spending time with their ill father. Addison was reading aloud while Addison held Olympia’s hand and Arabella plucked out notes on her father’s now-antique viola. 

Despite the pain etched in lines on Olympia’s face and the sorrow in the girls’ eyes, there was an air of sweet comfort and contentment in the room, and despite himself Albric couldn’t think of a way to die that suited Olympia more. 

The girls paused as B^2 stepped into the room and Olympia’s aged face lit up. “My friends! How good to see you!” Olympia instinctively tried to raise his arms in the air to accentuate his cheer but stopped halfway with a wince.

Jessamine immediately shooed her daughters out the door and gracefully fussed over Olympia before smoothing his covers, pecking him on the cheek and making a quiet exit. They were left alone.

“Soooo…” Albric trailed off awkwardly. He didn’t quite know how to handle this. He had never seen a companion suffer a slow slide into oblivion like this, more used to quick death in battle or the fresh immortality of elven blood.

“How much has Jessamine told you?” Olympia asked, oddly happy in his circumstances.

“Pretty much everything,” Cedar said mournfully.

Olympia smiled. “Ah, none of that! I would have rather had more time, but I’m learning to enjoy the time I have had. I have my beautiful wife, my dearest daughters, my amazing son who will take my place when I am gone, and my dear friends… what more could I have asked for?”

Albric smiled fondly at his old friend. “Well… is there anything else you’d ask for?”

Olympia looked thoughtful, then smiled.

000000000

A couple days later, Albric, Elena, and Cedar found themselves standing in front of an oddly young, but scarred half-orc, and an orc chieftess dressed in orcish finery. Chieftess Kansa, ¾ orc daughter of Waldrun, had inherited her tribe from her father when she turned thirty. Waldrun had successfully ruled for forty years, with no challenges for over two decades. The orcs had slowly become accustomed to peace and security, and had put aside their hatred in favor of improving their lives.

Waldrun, on the other hand, still looked young, barely a man in orc years, and you could not guess he was a grandfather to Kansa’s newborn son. His vampirism kept him the same age for eternity, and he had already expressed that he would be interested in rejoining B^2 after his daughter and son in law no longer needed his help running the tribe while they had a newborn.

After the pleasantries were out of the way, they got down to business. Albric knew Waldrun wouldn’t appreciate dancing around the issue, so he went straight in. “Waldrun, there’s been bad news. Olympia was injured and poisoned in a bandit raid, and now he’s dying.”

Waldrun was still for a moment, grief flashing over his face before he regained control. “I see.”

Cedar joined in. “He wants you to be there when he dies.”

Waldrun nodded, slowly. Being the only two members of B^2 to settle close to each other, they had become closer friends after the war, and everyone could tell it pained Waldrun to learn that he would lose Olympia soon when he would remain forever young.

Waldrun nodded again, more decisively. “I need to make preparations to leave.”

As they left to deal with the Holdian piracy crisis, Albric tried his best to take comfort in the fact that Olympia would pass surrounded by his loved ones and with Waldrun there to stand in for them, but the sick feeling in his stomach persisted.

000000000

A couple weeks later, in the brig of a pirate ship, Albric was miserable. On top of Zosyn selling his soul for immortality, Olympia dying, and Albric feeling responsible for both crises, B^2 was also miserably failing at stopping the pirate issue.

After arriving at the Holdian capitol, B^2 had been briefed on the problem. The Holdian crown jewels had been transported by ship to a world-famous jeweler in northern Britia for maintenance and light restoration. On the way back the crown, jeweled pendant, and royal scepter were stolen in a pirate attack on the ship, despite the heavy security and secrecy surrounding the transport. 

They were tasked with retrieving the national treasures. The Holdian king was only able to give them a couple hints, a port and the fact that the survivors of the pirate attack had overheard the pirates speaking about a pirate queen.

Unfortunately, sneaking around on boats was not as easy as sneaking around on land, and when the ship had been rocked by a rogue wave and Cedar fell into a stack of crates, knocking them over, and they had been caught right after that.

So now they were stuck in the wet and dirty brig, having not been fed for half a day. Albric was thoroughly sick of it, and he could tell Elena and Cedar were fed up too.

They were interrupted in their stewing by a tall, dark haired girl, twenty at the oldest, dressed in a colorful dress and a disdainful expression. The combination of dark hair in a braid, even though it was a single braid rather than a mess of braids and loose hair, and a colorful dress reminded Albric of Voyage, and the tan skin rather than pale, tattooed skin and human features rather than horns and a tail seemed more strange than Voyage’s inhuman features usually did. 

“Follow me.” the girl ordered. 

Elena sneered back. “What if I don’t want to?”

The dark haired girl smirked. “I leave you here and I don’t come back.”

After that there were no complaints from the prisoners as they were led past pirates, surprisingly well groomed but gleefully violent and greedy all the same. Nothing happened to them while they were moved, except Elena brushing against Albric to whisper to him, “the girl is a sorcerer.” Eventually they came out of the hold, and were led across the deck and into the captain’s quarters. 

The first thing Albric noticed was the massive canopy bed in the corner, surprisingly plush for a bed on a boat. The next thing he noticed was so extravagant that Albric didn’t know how the hell he hadn’t noticed it first. There was a giant throne in the center of the room, surrounded by piles of gold doubloons and jewels. The rest of the room faded into the background, as lavish as the desk and dining table were, in comparison to the opulent display in the center of the room.

Perched in the center of the ridiculous wealth wasn’t a male pirate captain, or a young, up-and-coming pirate, but an elderly tiefling. She was at least sixty, more likely seventy, with her hair neatly braided in three braids that were then combined into one, horns gleaming and polished. She wore a purple dress laced with golden thread. It was a noblewoman’s dress, clearly expensive and stolen, with a black corset worn on top. She was scarred and tattooed, with piercings in her hair, two in her eyebrows, and more in her ears, and yet the tiefling still managed to look regal and mischievous at the same time. 

The most startling thing about the woman who had to be the pirate queen had to be the dwarven-forged golden crown decorated with pearls and red velvet resting on her brow. It was distinctively the Holdian crown B^2 had been sent to retrieve, though Albric couldn’t see the pendant, and the scepter was nowhere to be found. 

The tiefling woman lounging on the throne smirked and said, “well if it isn’t B^2.” Suddenly, several things jumped out at Albric at once.

The colorful dress of the girl who had brought them in was old and faded, lovingly handed down after fifty years, and one he had seen many times during his crusade against the Khulic Empire.

The symbol painted on the wall of eyes surrounded by stars, the symbol of the moon goddess, Selune.

The dark gray hair of the tiefling that was once black, and the tattoos unfaded and unobscured by fine wrinkles would have been a bright teal. 

The thing that clinched Albric’s suspicions was a small airship, floating over the pirate queen’s left shoulder, that B^2 had taken from a dungeon decades ago and he had once given to his kleptomaniac friend after seeing her eyeing it.

“Voyage?” Albric asked, voice hoarse with shock.

“What?!” Elena and Cedar chimed in.

The elderly tiefling laughed gaily. “It’s been a long time Albric, Elena, Cedar. How’ve you guys been?” While she spoke the girl who had led them into the room walked over to stand with a straight back at Voyage’s right.

Cedar’s voice went so high she squeaked. “You’re the pirate queen? You stole the crown jewels?”

Voyage adjusted her crown. “My daughter, Jolande Voyage, stole it for me. I can’t personally lead raids anymore, but I stay back and organize different bands of pirates while Jolande acts as my second. It was a lovely mother’s day gift.” she gave Jolande a fond, motherly smile. 

Albric couldn’t help but fixate on the surreality of the situation. They had been taken captive by Voyage’s adoptive daughter, Voyage was the pirate queen and likely had been slowly promoting the resurgence of piracy in Holdia and controlling the pirates for years. And to top it off she was wearing a stolen ancient dwarven crown. 

“You have to give the crown jewels back.” Albric hadn’t meant to say that, but it was true anyway. Voyage had stolen from one of their allies, had returned to a life of crime after years of being a hero of the world. What had happened to her? 

Albric asked Voyage’s that, and her expression shuttered. The girl, Jolande, looked furious and something hurt flashed in Voyage’s eyes before she shut down. “Give the crown jewels back?” Voyage laughed harshly. “Do you know why Jolande stole this crown for me?”

No one answered, but Voyage answered anyway. “I was telling Jolande stories of the good old days, B^2, and I was telling the story of how we found the missing shard of the Holdian crystal, and I told her about how I mouthed off to the king and he threatened to execute me.” The deep anger that flashed in Jolande’s eyes was off-putting, but it clearly stemmed from a clear protectiveness. Voyage continued. “Jolande took offense and decided to get revenge, even if it was fifty years old. It’s been fifty years and I’m not mad anymore, but Jolande went through all this trouble to get me this lovely crown, and I’m not planning on giving it back to that self-righteous asshole king.”

“Voyage, it’s the Holdian crown jewels. They belong to Holdia. You have to return them.” Albric knew his argument wasn’t getting through, and he cast around only to find the symbol of Selune looking back at him. “What does Selune think of your return to piracy?”

Voyage just laughed. “Oh, Lady Selune doesn’t much care. I’m old, Albric, unlike some people here, and I’ve finished my mission. I’ve tamed the pirates into a cohesive force and put them in Jolande’s good hands. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, but my lady is the moon itself. She’s always watching over me. Lady Selune would tell me if she was displeased.”

000000000

After a few hours of arguing in circles, Albric, Elena, and Cedar had been thrown off the ship. Well, Albric and Cedar were, Elena didn’t exactly have a problem with Voyage’s criminality. She just followed them. It wasn’t even Voyage who threw them out, even older and presumably wiser she was content as ever to work herself up into a fiery argument with Albric.

It was Jolande, clearly protective of Voyage, even if Albric had no doubt that Voyage could defend herself with a spell or two with perfect ease. While they were arguing, Elena had pulled Jolande into a quiet discussion of being a sorcerer even while Jolande kept a watchful eye on Voyage. Later, Elena told them the story Jolande had told her, of how the girl had been abandoned and struggled to survive her magic ripping at her, a familiar story to both Elena and Voyage. 

Voyage had adopted Jolande, trained her, and raised her for the last twenty years as her daughter. They were each other’s only family, and despite how they disagreed Albric was proud of Voyage for doing for Jolande what Isabella hadn’t done for Voyage.

Albric was nevertheless uneasy. Voyage had regressed into piracy years ago, without him even knowing. Zosyn was clawing his way to cheating death by turning himself into a monster, and Olympia was dying. It felt like everything had suddenly gone wrong, the world Albric had had such a clear picture of was suddenly upside down. 

He tried to fall to sleep, and after a few hours of staring at the moon, Voyage’s goddess, he succeeded. 

A man’s voice that Albric knew, had prayed to for years, Torm, echoed in the darkness. “Albric, you may be right to worry for your wayward comrades, but all is on the course it should be. Perhaps after seeing what could have been, you’ll have a greater appreciation for your present.”

000000000

Albric found himself sitting in a tavern. It looked like every other bottom-tier tavern he had ever been in (and Albric had been in a lot). At first all seemed normal, until Albric looked down at his drink, and had to swallow a scream when he realized his right arm was gone.

Through the blinding panic, Albric took in the fact that his arm ended abruptly at his shoulder. He looked away, unable to take the jarring disconnect between his mind and his missing limb and met his own reflection in the cracked mirror behind the bar. He was the same age he had been before he fell asleep, but where before he had been aging but fit, now he looked exhausted and had the beginnings of a potbelly. 

Albric was suddenly distracted by the door flying open so hard it hit the wall. In marched a motley group of adventurers. 

For a moment, they looked strikingly like B^2. Elena slamming the door open, Albric following and rolling his eyes, Olympia marching through happily, Waldrun striding through the door with Zosyn sulking in his wake, and Voyage tripping in behind them, deeply engrossed in conversation with Cedar. 

Then he blinked, and they were different people, though as young as Albric’s vision of his past team had been. A barbarian dwarf clothed in plate mail brashly knocked open the door, followed by a grinning, redheaded girl who was a fighter, judging from her sword. Next was a man who could’ve been Olympia if not for his blonde hair and the lute that designated him as a bard. Something about the bard drew Albric’s attention, but he shook it off. He was speaking with a dark skinned elf man with dreadlocks and the symbol of Albric’s own god, Torm, on his armor, obviously a paladin. A dark-haired tiefling rogue dressed in all black skulked into the room, fingering his knives and a druid woman with brown hair, a friendly smile, and large glasses followed him. The rear was brought up by a wizard woman, clearly not a necromancer like Zosyn from her colorful clothes. 

Albric shrank down over his cup of cheap mead, and without his noticing the memories of a life where he still had his arm and his adventuring party faded to the back of his mind, replaced by thoughts of a failed fight. Albric winced as the young adventurers spotted him, and made a beeline across the tavern towards him. 

The uncharismatic, rough barbarian squinted up at Albric and ground out, “I’m Regdal, and these are my friends,” gesturing to his party as a voice echoed in Albric’s head: I’m Waldrun, and these are my associates.

Albric eyed them warily. “What d’ya want?” he slurred, only just realizing he was drunk. 

The bard gave him a bright smile. “We were sent by a friend of yours, she asked us to bring you to her!” 

With a grunt, Albric turned back to his drink. Somehow he knew that he knew who they were talking about, but he couldn’t quite figure out the identity of the person who was supposedly his friend. They were a vague itch in his mind, murky and on the tip of his tongue. “Not interested.”

The bard kept smiling sunnily at him. “We weren’t asking.”

Albric’s last thought before the rogue sneak attacked him was that perhaps this bard was less like Olympia than he had thought.

000000000

Albric woke up and he could immediately tell from long experience that he was in a tent in the woods. The first person he could see when he opened his eyes was the redheaded fighter from the tavern. She was young, with freckles and green eyes paired with a cunning smile that reminded him achingly of Elena. She stood up, and took his remaining hand to help Albric to his feet, and something in that motion clashed with the image of Elena in Albric’s head, stinging of Voyage’s brusquely elegant way of moving. 

The girl smiled wryly at him. “Sorry for kidnapping you, sir, but getting you here at any cost was our price to get in good with the Rebellion.” Glancing around the tent, Albric realized that it was likely the Rebellion’s tent he was in. 

He took in the girl’s choppily cut, fiery hair, and her leather armor. Meeting her eyes, he asked her, “what’s your name?”

Her smile shifted to something less practiced, more genuine. “Adela. Adela Voyage.”

“Voyage?” Albric asked, eyebrows raised. 

Adela nodded. “Mom didn’t have a last name to give me, so she gave me her first name.”

Something about that sentence gave Albric deja vu even as he took a second to wrap his head around that. Voyage, as a mother, felt right for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but there was something… off about it being this girl. Albric shook it off, and quickly bypassed half of his questions, because the obviously human girl was definitely adopted.

“Voyage was the one who sent you, wasn’t she?”

Adela nodded, holding the tent flap open. “Come, she wants to see you.” 

Albric followed her out of the small tent, across the meadow bustling with rough looking, yet hopeful rebels, and into a larger command tent. Walking in, Albric immediately spotted Voyage.

Voyage had always been a class of inconsistencies, and even though this Voyage was a contradiction, it wasn’t the usual rift between caring healer and broken pirate that he was used to seeing, or even the discordant mix of pirate and queen that something in Albric told him he should expect Voyage to be. 

Instead this Voyage sported scars, and a broken horn. Her hair was not the wild, jet black, half braided mix it was in her youth, or the elegant silver twist topped with a stolen crown that he somehow expected. Voyage’s hair was up in a utilitarian braided bun, tired eyes lacking the storm that he instinctively looked for. Dressed in workable clothes and not the colorful dresses he was used to, she looked serious in a way Albric had never associated with his old friend. 

And yet, Voyage was still holding court in her command tent.

She looked up, unsmiling. “Well, nice of you to show up, Albric.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t given much of a choice.”

Voyage rolled her eyes. “Of course. You weren’t going to choose to drag yourself out of the tavern willingly.” She waved a hand toward the door, and all the other people in the tent but Albric, Voyage, and Adela filed out. 

Albric scowled at Voyage, something bitter poisoning him. “Well some of us know better than to waste time on a fool’s errand, Voyage.”

Something broke in Voyage’s dull eyes. She slammed her hand, palm down, on the table in front of her. “How dare you. I let you do what you wanted, let you work through your grief. For years and years, but I don’t have centuries! I can’t sit back and watch as the Khulic Empire is eventually overthrown, not if I want to see their deaths!” Voyage’s voice broke and she braced herself against the table.

Images flashed through Albric’s mind, a torrent of information. Everyone down to low health, but still hopeful until Voyage went down. As Voyage struggled to cling to life, passing in and out of consciousness, the rest of their team went down too. 

Cedar screamed as she was lit on fire, skin peeling and curling in the flames. Cedar once could have twisted the flames to her will, but the patron that had given her that ability had betrayed her, and so she burned. She wasn’t given the mercy of dying of suffocation from the smoke because it was magical, and felt every moment of the agony until her heart gave out, collapsed on the floor and seizing before the rest of the group’s helpless eyes.

Albric’s arm was mercilessly shorn from his body with an axe. He lay on the floor in shock, unable to comprehend the loss of his most useful limb. As the enemies drew closer, Albric realized he was separated from the rest of the group, and that he would be killed in seconds. Suddenly, Dakota blinked into existence between Albric and the mob. He expected his sweet dog to blink away from the danger, and took a small measure of comfort from the thought that she would be safe, until she snapped at a nearby warrior and he realized she was staying. Dakota refused to teleport an inch, and didn’t fall until she was satisfied she had defended her master well.

Olympia’s dead eyes stared at the sky after he bled out from a wound. It had been a simple spear, one last weapon after a barrage of attacks. Slowly, slowly, Olympia had been brought down by innumerable blows, preferring to give the others what little healing he had left. Olympia’s last thought was regret that he had gambled away his armor, which could have saved him and given him the opportunity to save the rest of his friends. Olympia faded away knowing he had failed, and his loved ones would be following him to the afterlife soon.

Waldrun lay on the floor, multiple wooden stakes thrust through his chest, but still breathing raspily, refusing to die. At least, he refused to die until a warrior with an axe, perhaps the same one that had taken Albric’s arm, brought his weapon across Waldrun’s neck. The head rolled, trailing viscera and blood after it, Waldrun’s sightless eyes meeting Albric’s across the room.

Zosyn was finally out of spell slots, left with only cantrips to defend himself. But their enemy was far too powerful to defeat with a mere cantrip, and his spells fizzled out against the evil king’s army of minions. Zosyn looked around, panicked, and realized that only Albric, Voyage, and Elena were alive, and tried to think of a way to retreat without losing anyone else.

At least, Zosyn had hope until Elena’s knife clattered from her hand as it went slack. She gasped and choked, hand coming up to try to seal the wound across her neck shut to no avail. Blood leaked out through her fingertips as she tried to breathe through the blood filling her lungs. Whether she died from losing the lifeblood that flowed down the sides of her neck, or if she suffocated on her own blood, Albric would never know, but she was granted a quicker death than the rest of the group and for that he was grateful.

Zosyn had barely gotten a dying Voyage and grievously wounded Albric out of there, managing to bandage Albric up enough that he could stagger after Zosyn while he half-carried half-dragged Voyage. Afterwards, Albric split off. A ranger that couldn’t fire a bow, and an artificer that couldn’t hold a hammer, he felt useless. It was his fault his friends had died, he knew, and the only thing that dulled the pain was alcohol.

Albric looked at Voyage’s bowed shoulders, and realized he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “Voyage… you don’t blame yourself, do you?”

She looked him in the eyes and laughed bitterly. “Really, Albric? You’re going to ask me that? I was the healer, it was my job to keep everyone alive.”

“It wasn’t your fau-”

“NO! It was, and we both know it.” Voyage eyed Albric with a contempt he hadn’t seen in years, not since they had begun to fight by each other's sides in battle. “I don’t need your pity, Albric.”

“It’s not-”

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not here to rehash the past.” Voyage motioned Adela forward, who had been standing in the background so quietly Albric had forgotten she was there. Voyage nodded at Adela. “My daughter and her friends… they need you.”

“Need me?” Albric chuckled humorlessly, “I’m a ranger with no arm. No one needs me.”

A painfully familiar annoyance shifted across Voyage’s face. “They need training from a hero, Albric.”

“Train them yourself.”

Voyage laughed in his face. “Albric, you and I both know that I’m no hero. I’m only a cleric because my lady is merciful and took pity on me, and I was never fighting for the same reasons you were.”

“Not many of us were fighting for purely altruistic reasons, Voyage, not even me. Olympia was the closest to purely heroic and he-” Albric choked on his own words, the old grief threatening to overwhelm him, and he itched for a bottle of mead. 

“Please, Albric.” Voyage sat down at her desk. “You and I both know you’re more hero than scoundrel, not like the rest of us were. I may be running a rebellion, but I’m a pirate at heart, always will be. You’re a protector. I’ve taught them what I could, but now they need a hero.”

“If they’re like us, they don’t want to hear from a washed-out hero.”

Voyage smiled excitedly, the brightest one she had mustered thus far. “That’s the thing, Albric! They’re not like us. Zosyn picked them all, you know.”

“Why doesn’t he teach them, then?”

Voyage shot Albric a dirty look. “Please, Albric, you’re not actually dense. The day Zosyn is a patient and well-meaning teacher the world will freeze over. But he picked them because they’re us but better. More friendly, less thrown-together allies who care more than they show, but real friends. Less deceptive, and more trusting. While most of them have trauma, they don’t have the deep issues we did.”

Albric turned from Voyage to her daughter, Adela. “And what do you think, Adela? Your little friends knocked me out easily enough at the tavern. Do you think there’s something I could teach you?”

Adela assessed him with bright eyes that pierced him like Elena’s would’ve, and a confident toss of her hair that was learned at Voyage’s knee. “Yes, Albric. We need you. We may be good at teamwork, but we need experience on our side, and mom says there’s no one with more than you.”

Albric took a steadying breath, and turned back to Voyage. “I’m in.”

000000000

Albric sat back and watched the young team running an obstacle course he had set up. He had been teaching them for weeks now and Voyage had been right. They were young, powerful, and despite growing up in a world dominated by the Khulic Empire, less weighed down. He had grown fond of his young proteges, and although he had tried not to get attached, was now desperately afraid of sending them to fix his decades-old mistakes.

Something clicked in Albric’s head as someone settled next to him on the log, shrouded in a dark cloak. “Hello, old friend.”

Thin and pale hands drew the cloak’s hood back, and there was Zosyn, still railroad thin but now sporting a beard that nearly made him look like a respectable wizard. That near-respectability was offset by Zosyn’s usual unnerving aura and black clothes, and his menace was increased by the old burn scars that had been etched on his face, fifty years ago. 

Zosyn had been standing behind Cedar when she died.

“It’s been a long time, Albric.” 

Albric nodded. “You probably know I’ve been drinking away my problems. What have you been up to?”

Zosyn frowned. “Yes, I’ve kept tabs on you. I’ve been fighting the Khulic Empire, doing bombings, strafe runs. I’m not part of Voyage’s little rebellion. Too… heroic. Not my style. But I help out, where I can. She needs all the help she can get.”

“I know,” Albric whispered, thinking of the long years spent alone in the tavern. Years wasted while Voyage worked herself to the bone to atone from the deaths of their friends. Years not there while Zosyn waged his private war in the dark.

“I just think about how it could’ve been different. All the time, I think about the what ifs, the different paths we could’ve taken. What we would be like if they were still with us.”

Albric nodded. “I do, too. These new kids, they remind me of them. Of what we were.”

“Oh yeah, they do.” Zosyn smirked. “Especially Adela. She’s a mix of Elena’s attitude and Voyage’s mannerisms.” 

Albric hmmed, agreeing. “Skylar reminds me of Olympia.”

“He does. A little more up top though.” Both of them chuckled, one of the first times they could laugh at their long-gone comrades. “Regdal has some of Waldrun’s oddities but he doesn’t have his family ties or… condition. Obviously.”

“Doesn’t have his height either, but I guess being a dwarf will do that. Zorron, he’s a tiefling like Voyage, but they don’t have anything in common other than their race. He’s a bit like you, Zosyn. He has the dark and broody thing going on.”

“Very funny, Albric.” Zosyn rolled his eyes. “He’s a rogue, they all do. Kelkas, he’s a paladin of your god. And Yetta and Chiara fill Voyage and Cedar’s roles, even though they’re a druid and a wizard instead of a cleric and a warlock.”

Albric nodded. “They work. Like we did.”

“Maybe better.”

“Maybe.” 

“I suppose we’ll see soon. They’ll either end like we did, or be heroes forever.” Zosyn smiled grimly. “I wish it could’ve been us, with one more try. One last time being whole, as a team.”

Albric glanced at his missing arm. “Yeah.”

000000000

Sucking in a deep breath, Albric woke up. The first thing he did was check his right arm, and it was intact. Looking around the clearing they were camped in, he saw Elena and Cedar, sleeping peacefully. Whole, unsliced and unburnt, and aged. Not young and dead.

Hitting like a punch from the side, came the realization that Voyage and Zosyn’s team didn’t exist in this world. The young heroes Albric had spent weeks teaching and helping and coaching didn’t exist, at least not in the way they had been. 

But while Adela didn’t exist as Voyage’s daughter anymore, Jolande did. Skylar, the boy Albric had known since infancy, existed in both universes, though he didn’t know how he could exist when Olympia had died so young. There weren’t younger representations of them, but the real deal. Olympia might be… dying, but he was alive. He had lived for years, he had a good life, children. He might be old while Albric is barely brushing middle age, but he got to live his dream. 

Waldrun might be stuck as a vampire, a half-orc 16 year old, forever. But he wasn’t in two pieces. He wasn’t staked to the ground. He had a life, a reason for living as long as he did.

And Zosyn and Voyage were different. Zosyn might be running a cult and have done irreparable damage to himself, turning himself into a lich. But he wasn’t broken. He wasn’t alone, not like in the other world. And Voyage held her head high, not full of self-hatred and blame that drove her to tirelessly pursue revenge for her third destroyed family. She might be a criminal instead of a virtuous rebellion leader, but it wasn’t worth the price to drag her out of piracy. 

Perhaps, Albric thought, the best parts of that world could become part of his world, the team of plucky young adventurers that he had watched over protectively and trained. Perhaps, just this once, Albric could take the good without the bad, and turn a blind eye, training a new team of heroes to be strong where his team had been weak, and show them how to safeguard the world after the heroes of old had passed on.

It was something to keep fighting for.

**Author's Note:**

> I introduced a LOT of new, original characters, and there's a lot of lore I couldn't include. If you want to know anything about the new generation characters, please ask. I love them all.


End file.
